To Prepare for the Coming Days
by buttercupspie
Summary: The new human has broken the barrier, and all of the monsters have gone free into the human world. But it seems the original human was not about to be left behind. What happens if you start a genocide run in the human world...? T for lots of spoopy death and sad. It's not gonna be entirely sad though, there will be some happy fluff at some point probably. Also spoilers. pic is mine


**=== Chapter 1: sans. ===**

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I was sure that if it weren't raining so hard, I'd be able to see my breath. Somehow, despite the absence of snow, it was even colder here than Snowdin. It would have been an understatement to say I was glad I'd brought my jacket, but it wasn't as if I'd ever been in any danger of leaving it behind. All I knew was, fluffy jackets made excellent kiddo-warmers, particularly on days like this.

I felt a warm, fleshy hand tug at my funny bone. I wrapped my jacket tighter around the soft little thing that had taken up residence under my left arm. "Don't sweat it, bud. I'm sure she'll be here soon." The kid stopped their shivering and looked up at me with that vacant closed-eye stare, and then buried their face in my ribcage and wrapped their arms around me. Real tight, as if they'd never see another caring adult again, see? And I couldn't honestly tell'em I knew they would. Point is, I might have started to think maybe sometimes it was okay to lie. Or, if not okay, at least necessary.

The rain didn't seem like it would ever stop. It seemed to be cheering up a lot of bushes and birch trees, so I was happy for them, I guess. Happy, sad, and soaked. Ain't that a strange concoction of feelings? I counted myself lucky I didn't have any skin, because I know that stuff doesn't like to be cold and wet. (At the moment, the poor kid was a living testament to that.) I don't really like it either. It's not that uncomfortable, at least not for these old bones. It's just kind of depressing, you know? I thought this was the kind of atmosphere we'd come up here to get away from.

We would never have been chumming it up out here by choice. Not in weather like this. At first, we'd tried the mall, but security kicked us out for swimming in the wishing well. There was a coffee shop across the street where we got the kid some hot chocolate, but we got kicked out of there, too, when we found out they don't accept gold. The laundromat wouldn't let me put the kid in the dryer, the library didn't approve of whoopee cushions, and the grocery store tried to charge me for the ketchup bottle I brought in under my jacket. (I carry a lot more around under my jacket than you might think would fit. It's a great jacket, see.) So we wound up stuck out here. Freezing, drenched from head to toe, huddling on a bus stop bench for warmth. I was beginning to think I might have liked the Underground a lot better. Grillby's never would have kicked me out for trying to put an enthusiastically consenting small child in a dryer.

The streets were empty, which, even for this time of night, was unusual around here. My best guess was, we were literally the only people in the world stupid enough to be outside after nine in a storm. Or at least the only ones in Ben Lomond. Buses were still out and about, passing by every now and then. Whenever we saw an orange glow through the fog, and heard tires screeching, we'd know, that's a bus. And that's fine. That's their job. It got me thinking, you know that thing people do sometimes, where you look at what direction the bus is going, and kind of just shove your hands forward, like, "nope, not getting on, keep going?" Well, two or three times, just for kicks, I tried shoving my hands the _opposite_ way, _toward_ the bus instead. What kind of message do you suppose that sent out? "Nope, not getting on, you'd best pop it into reverse and drive back down that road butt-first like a confused little dog?" I wasn't sure if the look they gave me was saying, "buddy, you're out of your mind," or, "holy macaroni, it's a living skeleton."

Anyway, I kept doing it, and they kept staring at me like I was the weirdest weirdo that ever moseyed out of the top of a mountain, and the kiddo and I had a good laugh about that, about a minute a pop. Give or take sixty seconds. Law of diminishing returns and all that. Give us a break. It's kind of hard to laugh about anything in circumstances like these.

It was kind of hard to laugh knowing Toriel wouldn't _really_ be here soon. Or, uh, you know, ever.

Knowing, starting tomorrow, no one you knew or loved would ever laugh again.

The little chump was asleep by this point. I thought they might be drooling on my pelvis. All night long, I hadn't had the heart to tell them the bad news. I sure didn't have it in me now. Considering it was going to be their fault, you might have thought they'd already know. But a timeline anomaly is a funny thing.

By this point, it was useless to try to get up and go anywhere. It's kind of like having a sleeping cat in your lap. You can't just stand up. So I sat there, getting more and more soaked by the minute, trying my best to keep my little pal warm and dry, and I closed my eyes and hoped by the time I woke up, either there would be nothing to explain, or I wouldn't be around to explain it. I silently prayed they'd at least spare my brother, but it was an empty prayer. I knew what they were capable of when they got like this.

"Just don't kill Papyrus, okay?"

The kid rubbed their eyes and yawned, and gave me that absentminded look. I knew that look. That was the look of someone who would never hurt a fly.

"Yeah, alright," I conceded. "If that's what you want to think."

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hello yes do you like the story yes i agree

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I dunno what kind of schedule I'll be able to update this on. My writing skill is fickle, and I have a lot of schoolwork. But if you're subscribed, stay subscribed, because I _swear_ I'll update it eventually one way or another. Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is very welcome, it's the only way I can improve as a writer.


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